


Cut You Down

by BeetlesMcGee



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Beating the whole league in a year should take a heavier toll, Can be interpreted as Hop/Protag but doesn't have to be, Gen, a few liberties are taken with ingame mechanics and worldbuilding, and Hop shouldn't be such an underpowered rival, everyone besides protag/sordward/shielbert is typically just mentioned, or doesn't get a whole written conversation, protagonist is mostly undescribed, this is mostly just about hop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeetlesMcGee/pseuds/BeetlesMcGee
Summary: Maybe, just maybe, it's not always a good thing to celebrate some wunderkind somehow winning a massive region-spanning competition in a single year.  Maybe, just maybe, it's not always a good thing to encourage kids to place victory, constant over-achievement, and the approval of others above literally all else.But then again, a tale of a teenage "genius" constantly sacrificing their health and sanity while the whole region remains oblivious to anything but their success isn't exactly some uplifting underdog story you can spin for a profit, now is it?Hop wins.As it turns out, this isn't necessarily a good thing.(SWSH AU)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	Cut You Down

**Author's Note:**

> This fic basically exists because I think it was a waste to make Hop so weak for like nearly the whole game. Like honestly, this kid is the little brother of a Champion, was fortunate enough to receive a Wishing Stone, and a Legend deemed him just as worthy as you are. He’s super motivated, highly interested in Pokemon, and Leon could likely help him with whatever resources and educational materials he needed, as long as it’s still fair to other challengers. All this being said, he’d most likely be a far more difficult rival if the game didn’t forcibly hold him back with lame, wishy-washy teams. On one hand, I think the teams help symbolize his inner struggle and indecisiveness, but on the other hand, Hop’s not an idiot.
> 
> I got the basic gist of this idea from “Aspen” by NeonSauce, at least in terms of the Hop Angst, but I wondered about what would happen if Hop’s angst ended up coming from the total opposite direction that it does there
> 
> Plus, this fic is a general look at how it’s honestly just kind of… odd that so many people around you have been training for at least several years, but somehow you manage to beat them all with their best teams and become a hero chosen by a Legend in less than a year… even in Hop’s case, he still got bafflingly far if you were to look at it with more than a bare minimum of realism. I’ve always felt like this shouldn’t actually be enough time at all unless you’re paying a steep price for all that success.
> 
> In general, I just really don't trust the notion of cultures that continually pressure gifted kids to overachieve until they're basing all of their self-worth on it and end up stunted in other areas.

  
Ever since he was a tiny child, Hop had never had many true friends, despite being quite friendly and outgoing to those who knew him. Kids were happy to play with him temporarily, but few had patience to handle his loudness and borderline monomaniacal Pokemon obsession, and Postwick was pretty small and quiet anyway. Just Leon and one child Hop’s age could keep up, but that was good enough for Hop.  
  
By time Leon became Champion, Hop’s drive only accelerated further, rising to new heights, wanting to match that flawless grace and peerless power he saw out on the battlefield.  
  
He would cut down anything in his path to reach that goal.  
  
He would be the strongest, the sharpest, the absolute pinnacle.  
  
That he swore.  
  
From that day forth, a boy dreamt of being like a gallant sword. Brilliant, resplendent, unbreaking, never dulling, beloved by all.  
  
But from that day forth, another child dreamt of becoming like a noble shield. Impenetrable, imperturbable, ornate and immaculate, always and forever. One who could bear any burden, take any blow, protect everyone and everything without even a single complaint.  
  
It was only natural that they became rivals. Only natural that they both happened to be blessed with Wishing Stones. Both of them were always studying Pokemon, enrolling in extracurriculars based around them, prepping for every little thing they might need to know to be Trainers.  
  
Still, when Hop picked up his Wishing Stone, he never thought too hard about how the thing had pulsated in his hand, subtly shifting and expanding and shrinking in a way a rock never should. Nor how it was almost uncomfortably hot and somehow a bit prickly to the touch, how the edges seemed to shift and flow from sharp to smooth to even sharper, all by themselves. He’d nearly cut himself on the little thing just by holding it in his hand. There was an acrid odor to it, and something seemed to buzz at its core, something quiet but unceasing. It seemed almost _angry,_ somehow. But he was merely so happy to have one that he never questioned such things, happy enough with the explanation that Dynamax energy gave the stones strange properties.  
  
Perhaps he should’ve paid more heed to bad omens.

* * *

  
For the most part, the first couple of months of Hop’s journey were bliss. Travelling, meeting people, camping, catching Pokemon, playing with his Pokemon… Sure, meeting that weird Pokemon in the Slumbering Weald had been incredibly surreal, and sometimes he got the feeling that it’d been trying to tell them something important… but he and his rival both had gotten out of that just fine, so he tried not to worry about it too much.  
  
Really, Hop felt like he was doing well, all things considered. Before long, he already had Spark the Raboot, Merino the Wooloo, Arthur the Corvisquire, Slips the Quagsire, and Cordelia the Roselia. He was particularly proud of managing the last team member, since he’d found her with one of those special golden auras, and she’d already known Life Dew. They all got on pretty well, with Hop making sure to camp often and try to find plenty of berries for the curry. In a pinch, the few varieties of berries up for sale were also pretty good.  
  
But still, Hop and his team seemed to be no match for his rival. Still, he got beaten into the dirt every time.  
  
He wondered what his rival was possibly doing to already be so good. Did they even _sleep?_ In spite of their intense focus, they’d looked sort of tired during the last battle, unless it was Hop’s imagination…  
  
Still, Hop dug in his heels and resolved to train more often. Maybe do more max raid battles, the watts and extra items would really come in handy.  
  
Somehow, not only was that not enough, but he ended up losing to Bede too. And then getting talked down to like he was nothing but trash, nothing but a disgrace, would only make Leon look bad…  
  
So that was that, then. No more fooling around.  
  
Hop would cut everything down. He would cut himself apart. Get rid of everything stupid, useless, and ineffectual. Rend through every little scrap of weakness, grind himself against all his failures until he was the sharpest he could be.

* * *

  
Hop left Merino at home.  
  
He told himself it was for the best, despite Merino’s insistent crying and bleating. He blocked out his mother trying to get him to change his mind. Merino wouldn’t have to get hurt that way. Wouldn’t have to see the pain Hop was in, or the pain he would put himself through.  
  
Even if Merino were to become a Dubwool, it would hardly help much. Not even Fluffy or Bulletproof was a particularly redeeming ability for something with middling power, a single immunity, and a lackluster movepool.  
  
Next on the team came Jam the Toxel and Shanty the Cramorant. Slips also went home, replaced with a Silicobra that was rapidly evolved to Sandaconda.  
  
Perhaps Hop could’ve done a better job raising Jam tenderly, given how young the Toxel was, but he tried his best. It was simply that getting stronger was more important. Making him evolve into Toxtricity and stop being so utterly weak was more important. The Punk Rock ability would be invaluable.  
  
Shanty was entertaining, but Hop quickly found himself disappointed by how its lack of evolution meant he didn’t have much else to look forward to, on top of Shanty’s ability being so strange and gimmicky feeling… He couldn’t even get the odd bird to consistently find Pikachu for its Gulp Missiles. Apparently, no one was sure how to train that to be more reliably done.  
  
There were so many gaps in the knowledge of Pokemon that it was downright stupid. Hop felt stupid. The region’s fossil Pokemon didn’t make any damn sense. Why would having only a fraction of a fossil prevent you from cloning the whole original Pokemon? There was no way those sad crossbreeds ever actually existed naturally! On top of that, apparently, there were dozens more moves being used in regions overseas, and hundreds more Pokemon. That only made everything more infuriating. Even if he became the best in Galar, he was still somewhat disadvantaged compared to the rest of the world.  
  
The bitterness sharpened the sword further. Cut away more flesh, shaved away feeble emotions and replaced them with cold steel.  
  
Hop woke at 4:30 AM every morning, setting aside coffee and chesto berries to help him wake up further. It wasn’t like he could sleep well anymore anyway. He figured the time was better used to train anyway.  
  
The team worried and complained, but it was for their own good.  
  
They mowed through scores and scores of Max Raid Battles, Hop getting routinely clipped with stray Max Moves and their debris. It was fine though. Roselia knew Life Dew, and Hop knew first aid. Weaklings didn’t complain or back down. If you felt sore and exhausted every morning, you just had to find a way to get around it. No excuses.  
  
He barely spoke to anyone at all unless it was about finding more Max Raids and rare Pokemon. Made every meal short and efficient, sticking only with things that could be scarfed down quickly. If he ate at all. Sometimes, forgoing a meal made a good way to punish himself for not working hard enough.  
  
Spark evolved into a Cinderace, while Arthur became a Corviknight, and Hop felt the happiest he had in weeks. They were getting closer to beating Lee. Closer to the finish line.  
  
And yet still, they lost to the rival and their team. Again. Hop nearly wanted to tear his hair out, even though he made sure to be civil to his rival. They looked like they’d had a rough day. There were scars and little bruises all over their arms, and they limped a little when they walked. They looked even more tired than last time, shoulders slumping and body seeming to almost become smaller somehow after their victory, as if it had taken so much out of them despite their Pokemon doing the physical labor. Hop could swear they’d lost weight, too. But when Hop briefly opened his mouth to ask about it, it seemed like every fiber of his rival’s being silently begged him not to. They flinched, shrank back, and were then speeding off on their Rotom bike before Hop could question them any further.  
  
Hop had half a mind to go after them, but he had his own work to do.  
  
Bede’s words had festered in his heart like toxic grime, steadily building and growing so much further beyond anything Bede had ever actually said. A great, pulsating beast of sludge had formed, and those original words were its undying heart.  
  
But that was fine too, in its own way. The terror of being consumed by the beast would give Hop more motivation to push forward.  
  
It felt like fighting, even if every swing he took fed the thing further.  
  
Hop made more adjustments to the team. Cordelia was temporarily replaced with a Trevenant, as much as it pained Hop to do so. Shanty was gone in almost no time, replaced with a very promising Munchlax. It’d taken a great deal of effort, but he’d found one with a brilliant aura, Curse, and a good nature. As much as it conflicted him to waste time on camping, he at least set aside enough of that and enough Pomeg and Qualot berries to rapidly evolve the plump creature into a powerful Snorlax. Finally, Hop took a chance with an unplanned attempt to raise a Boltund.  
  
The poor creature had appeared to be more of an abandoned stray than a true wild Pokemon, a friendly little thing... But skinny, dirty, and confused about having to fend for itself.  
  
For a brief time, Hop’s urges to protect and nurture kicked back in, especially when it turned out the Boltund knew Discharge and Flame Charge. Definitely a breeding attempt, then.  
  
Regardless, Hop couldn’t bring himself to name any of the new team members. They might just get replaced again anyway. Besides, what if people thought the names were childish?  
  
It didn’t help that Jam was almost immediately gripped with seething jealousy, even though Hop had kept them both on the team in hopes that they could be friends, and synergize with one another. Jam had grown into a surly, aggressive, tantrum-throwing Toxtricity, taking on the wilder Amped Up form. And Hop already paid him limited attention, so a troubled Boltund coming along to steal away even more of the limelight was simply out of the question.  
  
Hop did his best to keep and eye on both of them and mediate all their interactions, but just two weeks after getting Boltund, Jam finally had enough.   
  
Boltund were rather frail Pokemon, despite incredible speed and stamina, which worked out perfectly in the fussy, short-tempered Toxtricity’s favor.  
  
In a fit of jealousy and lingering immaturity from their short-lived Toxel days, Jam turned a normal camping excursion into a disaster, breaking one of Boltund’s hind legs and contaminating it with a vile, seeping toxin in mere moments.  
  
To be fair, Jam honestly did seem shocked by just _how_ badly he’d hurt Boltund, apparently not having a full grasp of just how powerful he’d become since evolving.  
  
Hop sighed outwardly, despite inwardly feeling as if he were receiving another massive stab to the gaping wound of never being good enough. He’d been told and read about the risks over and over. Evolution changed Pokemon’s behavior, and made them larger and stronger, but it was no true substitute for genuinely growing up. Especially not when most species would live at least for a matter of decades, and yet Hop was evolving them in a matter of months. In many ways, Jam was still just a surly, headstrong child who didn’t like sharing.  
  
Hop took the Boltund to a Pokemon Center, where he was fortunately told she would make a full recovery, but he didn’t have the heart to put her back on his team. He’d just make some careless mistake again, and ruin it like he ruined everything.  
  
He ended up losing to his rival again anyway, narrowly, the temporary vulnerability presented by Snorlax’s Rest working against him… But the whole incident just seemed to ring hollowly through his body, barely even feeling real.  
  
In any case, he felt he deserved it for what he allowed to happen to Boltund.  
  
His rival seemed more gaunt and haunted than ever, but Hop was hardly able to have any meaningful conversation with them after the battle ended.

* * *

  
Time went on. More training. More brilliant aura Pokemon. More watt-harvesting, more peddling his bike about to the point of nausea, throbbing legs, and burning lungs. More Max Raid Battles, even if his sore and exhausted state left him more prone to accidental injury.  
  
Hop resolved not to swap his Pokemon around too much anymore. He needed resolve. He needed to be stalwart and strong, he couldn’t yield. He couldn’t be indecisive. Couldn’t have so many imperfections.  
  
At one point, Hop rescued a Pincurchin in Chirchester Bay; having seen the creature getting harassed in the shallows by a territorial Gastrodon who proved totally impervious to anything the creature could do.  
  
Hop hadn’t intervened at first, knowing that it was part of nature and that the Gastrodon would not prey on the hapless creature, only push it off of its turf to claim more food for itself.   
  
Unfortunately, the one-sided confrontation had left the little creature missing enough spikes that a scrappy looking Grapploct moved in almost immediately afterwards, smashing against the Pincurchin’s tough exterior with a such brutal Brick Break that the little creature simply couldn’t bear it, fainting with a pathetic squeal as the Grapploct gurgled with delight at the prospect of such an easy snack.   
  
Another of the creature’s arms swung down even harder, leaving a deep, nasty crack as the predator excitedly prepared to pull its prey apart.  
  
Hop knew that was also just the cruelty of nature. The Grapploct was not evil, and the prone, helpless Pincurchin was merely unlucky.   
  
Yet, Hop still found himself reaching for his Pokeballs as if his life depended on it, eyes set and heart in his chest.  
  
Within seconds, the Grapploct found that it was now the one wailing in pain, mercilessly assaulted by Arthur’s fierce Drill Peck.  
  
As strong as the specimen had looked, its focus on its prey meant it was caught completely off-guard. It flopped wetly to the ground in a single strike, and Hop quickly gathered up the Pincurchin and ran.  
  
When he got somewhere a bit safer, Hop carefully tended to the creature, first a Revive and then quickly capturing it to help stabilize its condition further. He learned a few things about the little creature then. Female, Lightning Rod as the ability, attacks that made him briefly wince with how utterly mediocre they were… the poor thing apparently didn’t even know Recover… wait, why was that the first thing he cared about? Wasn’t he supposed to be saving her life?  
  
Hop merely grunted to himself.   
  
“Do you want to join my team?” Hop asked the little creature, more out of politeness than strong desire… part of him was already so fond of her, but a harder, colder part of him wondered just what in the world he was doing.  
  
The little Pincurchin squeaked excitedly, hopping up and down a couple of times.  
  
“Alright!” Hop started, giddy for just the briefest moment. “You can be-” Hop started, but he stopped almost just as soon, head swimming with thoughts. The moves Pincurchin could learn, its essentially non-existent rankings in tournaments and paltry number of placements on challenger teams… the fact that the one before him didn’t have the Electric Surge ability, and trying to just use Electric Terrain was going to waste him precious turns and battle momentum when Pincurchin were as slow as dirt…  
  
“...On second thought, why don’t I just take you to a Pokemon Center for right now? They’ll help make sure you’re okay. Help you out a little more than I can.”  
  
The Pincurchin contentedly gurgled her agreement. With that, Hop was off.  
  
While they were there, Hop had Pincurchin remember how to use Recover, as well as rifling through his TM case to allow her to learn Protect. The delighted wriggling and gurgling of the little creature as she tested her new moves out was something that Hop wouldn’t tire of even if he saw it a thousand times over.  
  
It was just too bad that it would never really come to that.  
  
Hop tossed and turned in bed that night, still weighing his options. He knew why he’d specifically chosen those moves for Pincurchin to learn. Pincurchin didn’t.  
  
By the next morning, Hop continued on his way with downcast eyes, and one less full slot in his PC boxes. He’d personally went and released Pincurchin back to the bay himself, doing his best to smile as he explained that her new moves would help her live more happily than she did before.  
  
He did his best not to think about the palpable confusion in her beady little eyes, or the frantic squealing he’d heard as soon as he began to walk away. The way he’d turned back, saw her trying her very hardest to slowly hop after him, squeaking and squealing with desperation all the while… and then he’d simply faced forward and started running, leaving her there.  
  
It was okay.  
  
It was fine.  
  
He had Toxtricity. Loud, foul-tempered, arrogant, annoying Toxtricity, melting his new pair of shoes, hurting Boltund, and seeming to defy every help article he read…  
  
But Toxtricity won ( _most_ ) fights, and that was what really mattered, right?  
  
Right.

Of course.

* * *

On the bright side, Melony toppled like a house of cards. Spark the Cinderace near-single handedly tore her team apart. There was a temporary lightness as she congratulated and complimented him, but then a cloying, nagging feeling that wouldn’t go away. He’d won, cleanly at that, and yet he still couldn’t help but zero in solely on what could be improved on.  
  
Once again, he didn’t bother to make any celebratory curry. No longer needing to evolve a Munchlax, it seemed rather pointless. Spark and Arthur whined loudly, but ultimately understood. They needed to stay sharp, after all.  
  
Hop couldn’t remember the last time he stopped and just appreciated scenery. Was it even important anymore? The areas around the city were harsh and cold, and he needed to hurry up and beat another gym anyway. Hurry up before his rival pulled ahead. Hurry up and be better than Lee. Hurry up and be champion, be a winner, become at least _good enough_ even if he could never be _perfect,_ even if he could never really be a _hero_ or anything like that…  
  
Hours, hours, and _hours_ of fishing, rain or shine, day and night, all to get a Magikarp with just the right temperament and just the right sheen to its body. Hop went through at least ten with the aura, and who knew how many normal ones, before he was finally satisfied. A lightweight elation raced through him, and yet he was somehow hollow and deflated at the same time, especially as he thought about he was replacing another team member.  
  
No matter. Hop practically dragged himself back to a Pokemon Center; damp, muddy, and reeking. But finally, finally, finally, there was his perfect Magikarp, and there was another team member, unceremoniously put on ‘vacation’ in the box.  
  
Hop was so happy he could cry.  
  
When he was all alone in the darkness of his hotel, he did.  
  
Perhaps they weren’t the kind of tears he was expecting, and perhaps when he was done he just felt oddly empty and ashamed, but there was no time to dwell on it. He got four and a half hours of sleep, feeling like it’d be a crime to sleep even a second longer. He needed to evolve the Magikarp and get his hands on more TRs. He may have still been drained, with legs still just barely overcoming the soreness of the prior day, then the day before that, then the days before that and that _and that and_ _that_ **_and that_** … but Hop was no coward, no quitter, and no whiner.  
  
Hop missed Shanty the Cramorant often, but there was no helping it. Merino would understand if he couldn’t go visit her either. There was simply no time to spare. He had a Gyarados and a Snorlax, there was no need for another Water-type or Normal-type. He couldn’t be cute about themes like the Gym Leaders. He needed to grasp at every advantage, every little foothold he could get. Every moment needed to count. His current team needed his undivided attention if they were going to get as strong as possible.  
  
Time continued rolling on. It barely felt real. All that mattered was improving, honing, perfecting, analyzing.  
  
Hop unknowingly fractured his leg, and another time his ribs… A third time, deep gashes on his arm. He was dealing with stronger and stronger Pokemon, sometimes a bit _too_ strong… but he needed to. It was the only way.  
  
Cordelia was evolved and back on the team, repeated Life Dew applications and first aid substituting for real medical care. Hop couldn’t give a damn if all the medical guidebooks said not to do it if you had that level of damage. It hurt, but it did the job decently enough, and he wasn’t a baby. The show had to go on.  
  
Besides that, the eternal urge to perfect his team burned within him. The finals were coming. He needed a show-stopping team if he was going to pull through. So, off to the Lake Of Outrage he went.

* * *

  
It was a slow and miserable slog through the bitterly punishing sandstorms of the Lake Of Outrage, when they even showed up. Hop required a whole new wardrobe to get through the ordeal… but he could feel the burning need to track down the “perfect” Pupitar, feel it like his life depended on it. Fortunately, he’d picked up the pace enough that he had quite a bit of time left after picking Raihan’s team apart as if those dragons were just a cluster of feeble Goomy.  
  
In the midst of battle, Raihan saw something in Hop’s eyes that was more disquieting than any dragon he’d ever seen. Saw how many bruises and scars and band-aids he had. Unfortunately, Hop was rushing off to his next order of business before he could be confronted.  
  
It took a whole day in a storm just to find the first normal one. Multiple days just to find the first with that precious aura, swaddling it like glint of golden hope in the sandy hellscape. Weeks of trying to cooperate with the weather and his own mounting frustration, weeks of bitter tears, unyielding exhaustion, using every single damned trick in the book to boost his odds, before he finally found the one with a Nature he wanted. Hop just chuckled hollowly when it was all finally, _finally,_ ** _finally fucking_** **over**. Nothing less would beat Lee. Nothing less would tear through those Pokemon just the way it needed to. Lee was perfection.   
  
He had to surpass perfection. He had to grind his soul down to the sharpest, hardest thing he could muster. And then some.  
  
And so, it was never over. It would never end. Not until the finish line. Not a moment sooner.  
  
Hop did not sleep that night, or even bother to bathe. Already, so much time was spent getting that damnable Tyranitar. He needed to make up for it. Everything depended on it. Every wasted moment could very well be the one that destroyed his chance at victory. Time was a beast that did not know compromise.  
  
By morning, as ragged and heavy as he felt, at least he finally had the Tyranitar, with Dragon Dance, a strength-boosting nature, and all the bells and whistles.  
  
It didn’t matter that he felt like he could crumble to dust at any moment, all that mattered was that it felt like he could make the world crumble with him.  
  
As Hop stood out in the wilderness, surveying his new capture’s form as the sun rose, the Tyranitar towered over the exhausted boy, seeming tired but still excited after the long, long, **_long_** night… he gave a pleased croon, awaiting further direction from what was undoubtedly a very promising Trainer.  
  
Another great and majestic creature, beyond a doubt. But once again, Hop somehow could not bring himself to name him. He promptly replaced Jam, and Hop simply left it at that.  
  
Besides Tyranitar, Hop still desperately searched further for just the right team, growing ever more anxious as the date of the finals drew ever closer. Perhaps a Mimikyu. Disguise was incredibly useful, and its typing would be good against much of Lee’s team. Besides, it was funny, the way it was always pretending to be something it wasn’t.  
  
 ~~Just like him.~~  
  
But ultimately, Hop changed his mind about capturing one, going with an expertly selected Gardevoir instead. She promptly replaced Cordelia.  
  
Still, Gardevoir knew Teleport, an invaluable time-saving tool even if he had to remember to replace it before major battles, and she had a modest nature, even-tempered and reasonable with devastating special attacks.   
  
Hop tried not to be happy that he didn’t have to deal with the Toxtricity anymore. After all, he was taking a huge risk, spending yet more time on a new team member... but it seemed like it was paying off.   
  
So, one more leap. One more long, harrowing slog of Max Raid Battles before the deadline, a frantic quest that almost proved fruitless, resulting in mostly injuries and curses and small consolations before it finally bore the ultimate fruit.  
  
Gigantamax Corviknight.  
  
It was a hellish fight. Hop’s ears were ringing by the end of it. The storm of energy around it had grown so intense that he’d feared it would swallow him whole. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure how he managed, but he finally had the goddamn thing in a ball.  
  
His whole body trembled, and blood dripped down his forehead from where the debris of a stray attack cut him, but he didn’t care. Just laughed with almost maniacal relief at the Dusk Ball in his hand. Mirror Armor, Gigantamax, a good nature. The thing was absolutely fucking deluxe.  
  
Replacing Arthur was such a small, small price to pay. He’d been around since nearly the beginning, so of course he’d understand.  
  
It took everything Hop had to not pass out before he could safely make it back to a Pokemon Center. He definitely got sick to his stomach too, although it was more of a dry heave than anything. It wasn't like he'd been eating particularly well.

* * *

  
The next thing Hop knew, he was fighting through the semi finals. Then the finals. His rival fell. It was almost like a dream. He was terrified he’d wake, still shocked he’d even made it. Gigantamax Corviknight had used up almost all his remaining time, in exchange for the rewards accumulated in the process boosting his team to new heights.  
  
Hop tried not to let the feeling of triumph be ruined by the fact that both of them looked like absolute hell when he saw how the cameras captured their faces on the big stadium screens.  
  
He only partly succeeded. 

Then there were so many completely stupid interruptions. First Macro Cosmos, with some ridiculous plan. It didn’t matter. Hop just had Gardevoir use Psychic to stop the stupid employee with the key, then promptly shredded Oleana’s team next. What a stupid fucking plan.  
  
He could feel everyone’s eyes on him, wide and concerned, but he didn’t care. Didn’t even care when they nervously congratulated him on getting the key away from Oleana in mere moments.  
  
The rest of the incident was similarly annoying as all hell, but Hop got through it well enough. Shrugged off worried commentary from the others. He just wanted it to be over.  
  
Once the finals were able to start, Bede came unannounced. Standing in his way yet again.

Hop didn't even enough to truly be angry with him. It wasn't worth it. He'd just let the pest before him know that he had no place wasting his time. No place standing before him, _still_ getting in the damn way, after everything he'd said.

Hop sent out his own Gardevoir. Psychic and Fairy, a highly deliberate choice.

Bede's team was as nothing. Four flimsy pillars of styrofoam before him. 

Mystical Fire, with the grace of a dancer and the ferocity of a dragon. That was all it took. Bede’s Mawile down in a flash.  
  
Then Hop brought the Corviknight, the _new_ Corviknight, and showed the world just what he was made of. He derived no pleasure or vindication from the action. It was only a means to an end.  
  
Gigantamax Corviknight made a joke of Bede’s team. Hopefully, that would show him his place. Honestly, that could be any place, as long as it was well out of Hop’s path to victory.

Hop was outwardly polite enough, if terse, but Bede recoiled just slightly, seeing the sharpness in his eyes and the scars on his weary face for what they truly were.

Out of the way, styrofoam.  
  
The finals went on, and Hop continued tearing through every challenger who stood before him.  
  
Then Rose interrupted, ruining fucking _everything_ with his ridiculous bullshit. _Again._

* * *

  
Spark burned through Rose’s team as if they were just piles of kindling. Eternatus awakened. Hop looked the world’s end directly in the eyes, and only saw another obstacle.  
  
Another wretched, troublesome thing standing in his way when he didn't know how much longer he could stand himself.  
  
He didn’t have _time_ for it. It had the _gall_ to stand in his way, just when he was finally going to get what he wanted, the very thing that had him constantly whittling himself down, constantly trying to become the sharpest blade possible.  
  
It didn’t understand how fucking _hard_ he’d worked! It didn’t even fucking care! It wouldn’t acknowledge him in the slightest, he was nothing but a _speck_ to that writhing abomination!  
  
But because he’d become the sharpest sword he could, he cut. He stabbed. He tore. Gardevoir’s psychic powers blared across the field, harsh and strobing as Gardevoir’s mind hammered the damnable creature again and again. At their side, Zacian tore into it as well.  
  
The creature screamed, wrathful and pathetic all at once.  
  
In a moment of clarity and compassion, Hop thought about how it had likely never even _once_ given anyone its actual permission to use the power of Dynamax. How it’d fallen from the heavens, rendered comatose and prone, only to be attacked again when it was finally permitted to awaken.  
  
It probably thought humanity was naught but a mass of troublesome parasites, staking everything on something that wasn’t even theirs.   
  
Hop briefly wondered how great of an idea it was to stake nearly the entirety of the region’s power supply and entertainment on something that people barely understood in the slightest. Wondered how smart it was to let teenagers saunter on up to dens containing gigantic beasts whose power could level mountains. Wondered if maybe Piers was right to not Dynamax Pokemon. Wondered why some rude, entitled, snivelling little teenager got to become a Gym Leader just because he had a few weeks to calm down and Opal randomly said so. What was the point of disqualifying the damn brat at all if he was just going to suddenly be rewarded with something he never actually asked for later? Weren’t there a bunch of grown adults who’d worked hard for years and legitimately wanted that position?  
  
Hop wondered if it wouldn’t be better to simply let the monster before him _win._ Perhaps they all fucking deserved it after all. Perhaps they all should’ve fucking known better than to trust weird little glowing stones that pulsated like organs. Should’ve known better than to let things get so bad that a couple of miserable fucking teenagers and some freshly unpetrified wolves have to save the damn world.  
  
 _Fuck_ , why didn’t anyone actually _give a damn_? Why was everything always going wrong just when it seemed it would _finally_ get better?  
  
Still, Hop never arrived at any good answers to those questions. He ultimately decided that questions like that didn’t matter. It was pointless. The creature before him was going to destroy the region, and so it needed to be stopped.  
  
And so, together with his dearest friend, together with Zacian and Zamazenta, they did it.   
  
They ‘saved everything’.  
  
And yet, all Hop could think about was when he could fight Lee.  
  
Hop felt like he was rusted through. Like he could topple any moment, hitting the ground and crumbling to dust. But just like before, just like always, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he’d topple the world with him. And then, it would all rise anew.  
  
Everything would be better then. It would stop hurting then.  
  
It had to. It _had_ to, and if it didn’t, he’d just have to cut down that problem too. And the next. And the next.  
  
He’d become a truly resplendent sword.  
  
To rend and tear, to fight and conquer, that was all that mattered.  
  
And for a sword, there was nothing more.  
  
Meanwhile, his rival had wanted to be a shield.  
  
To stand before everyone, unyielding and uncomplaining, taking whatever was thrown at it and pushing through every single time.  
  
To have everyone standing behind it, trusting it, counting on it, ignorant of all the nicks and dents building on its surface, ignorant of how it slowly warped and rusted. How the blood and grime took away its polished luster, how time ate away at its regal decorum.  
  
They would see those things if the shield were ever to turn around, ever to stop being on guard, ever to truly show them its face. Perhaps they would worry. Perhaps they would help.  
  
But it would not, and it could not.  
  
For a shield, there was nothing more.  
  
But for a second, Hop saw not the shield, but the child that dreamt of becoming one.  
  
And what he saw was terrifying.  
  
And what he saw looked far too much like him.  
  
Sore, exhausted, pale, wiry. Dark circles, litanies of little cuts and bruises, trembling knees and tired, desperate eyes. A child that wants so, so much to be something they’re not. To be something _more._  
  
It was said that a journey was a transformative experience. That much was not a bad thing by any means.  
  
But Hop had never thought about just what it made people transform _into._ And it seemed that was perhaps the most important question all along.  
  
Still…  
  
The child by Hop’s side was not a shield. Was not just a _thing,_ not just a _tool._ _  
_ _  
_A reminder was in order. _  
_ _  
_Hop reached out, attempting to embrace his first and closest friend... But the child, the trembling hero, jerked away as if the touch would cleave straight through them. A shield did not need pity, did not need to be coddled. A shield was stalwart and unfeeling, above all else.  
  
Hop winced. He’d used to be better in a situation like this, when his friend was hurt and scared and needed someone to reassure them… but when was the last time he’d stopped for a _real_ talk with anyone? When was the last time he’d thought he’d had time for anything like that? It was all just battles and formalities, with empty words and mindless chatter filling the voids between. In truth, he’d started to like the chance to avoid conversations, only switching back when it was expected of him. It meant he wasn’t wasting his time.  
  
And yet, Hop found himself at a loss for words. A problem he couldn’t simply cut down. A situation beyond the capacity of even the greatest of swords. He could stand with the legends of old to tear even a god asunder, and yet, when faced with the task of trying to build someone up…  
  
He didn’t know what to do.  
  
Before his eyes, the child before him became a shield once more. Eyes of impassive steel, stance straight and stiff.  
  
It was clear they weren’t going to yield any further.

* * *

  
Before long, the champion battle came. Hop’s rival had caught Eternatus, but he had no idea what the other child would actually decide to do with it. Hop simply focused on his moment of truth. He locked eyes with Leon, in front of the entire region and beyond.  
  
For just a flickering moment, after the confidence and passion his face displayed to the crowd, Leon’s face shifted into something like pity, or concern. And Hop understood his friend then. Understood how it seemed a force so gentle could make him feel so disgustingly _brittle._ He set his face and prepared his first Pokemon, burning with a sudden _anger,_ of all things. He didn’t need Lee’s pity, nor his concern, nor all his insipid little questions. There was nothing wrong. He’d worked hard, he’d become the sharpest he could be, and he was a fine, unstoppable sword.   
  
And that was final.  
  
Hop started with Spark, Leon with an Aegislash named Royal.  
  
Hop predicted Leon’s attempt to avoid what would probably be a Pyro Ball, seeing the way he immediately went for King’s Shield, but that only provided an opening for Bulk Up instead.  
  
Then came the Pyro Ball, speed and force all the more devastating after the power of a Bulk Up. The booming impact was like a meteor, Royal letting out an unearthly groan as it struggled through the impact. From the lingering embers of the savage Pyro Ball, Royal gave a grunt of effort as it went for a Shadow Ball next, but Spark smoothly avoided the attack in the nick of time, knowing just how vitally important the battle was to Hop.  
  
The spectral sword was tough to have survived even one strike of such power, but the next brought it down quickly enough, crashing to the floor with a loud clang and a mournful, metallic groan. Leon seemed to know that King’s Shield had become something that would only prolong the inevitable, on top of not being able to sap Spark’s strength if Spark never made contact.  
  
After Royal came Leon’s second team member.  
  
Rhyperior, slow and lumbering. Hop was hardly even listening for the nicknames anymore. He only felt dull surprise that Lee would still bother to do so.  
  
Hop’s response was Gyarados, who gave a savage roar. He prepared to Dynamax.  
  
In Dynamax form, Gyarados dispatched Rhyperior with just a single Max Geyser, the gargantuan deluge too much for even a Pokemon with the Solid Rock ability to possibly stand against.   
  
Hop could see Lee’s eyes widen when an aura of power flared around the gargantuan Gyarados, and it released a deafening roar in time with the audience’s cheers, adrenaline flooding its system thanks to Moxie. Rain began to fall, only ensuring the next Max Geyser would be all the more brutal.  
  
Dragapult came out, a blazing fast special attacker who was packing Thunderbolt… but even that couldn’t bring down a Dynamax Gyarados.  
  
Boosted by Moxie, the ensuing Max Airstream struck Dragapult down in a near instant, blasting it clear across the field without any regard for its awesome power or abilities to conjure fearsome lightning. Hop just smirked, chuckling to himself with a detached sort of disbelief as his mind raced and his heart pounded. This was really it. Half of Lee’s Pokemon, gone! But he couldn’t let down his guard. Slice forward. Cut down every obstacle. Sharper, stronger, faster. All the way to the finish line. Lee had to have something up his sleeve, still. Even as Gyarados’ power surged to brand new heights, Moxie activating once more.  
  
Then came Haxorus, and even with its terrifying physical strength, it could not fell Gyarados. Max Airstream only raised Gyarados’ speed, allowing it to immediately strike with another and send it ragdolling across the arena, landing in a bruised heap.  
  
Moxie activated for the third time, and Gyarados’ movements would only be swifter. As Gyarados shrank back down, Dynamax energy draining away, everyone knew that it’d really become only marginally less dangerous.  
  
The crowd was cheering so loud that it was pounding in Hop’s ears. The commentators were going wild.  
  
Leon sent out a Rillaboom next, but it was really little more than a Wooloo to the slaughter. A single Bounce absolutely crushed the poor creature, and then it was onto Charizard.  
  
A single Waterfall ruined it within the space of five seconds, even after Leon went to all the trouble of flashily talking about never giving up while Gigantamaxing it.   
  
The creature lay soaked and unconscious, the crowd in disbelieving silence for just a moment before bursting into a more deafening sound than ever before.  
  
Leon returned the Charizard, face almost unreadable before he looked up at Hop and plastered a smile on it.  
  
That was that, then.  
  
Hop had done it.   
  
He’d really, really done it.  
  
He’d beaten Leon! He’d won! He’d really, really won!   
  
He was going to become Champion!  
  
But… what was… why did he feel so… odd?  
  
It was… it’d been more epic in his head. So much more. Both would be down to their last Pokemon, each breathing heavily as they pushed each other to the utmost limit…  
  
But here…  
  
Hop’s Pokemon had been damaged only once across the entire battle. He’d beaten five of Lee’s with just a single Gyarados. Partially, that made him happy. It meant he must’ve really gone all-out on his training.  
  
But… was that really it?  
  
He was positively bursting with emotions, and yet, somehow, many of them weren’t even good. Was that really what it was to reach perfection? Become the best? Then why…  
  
Why didn’t he _feel_ like the best?  
  
He scanned the crowd.  
  
His heart sank as he realized his rival was nowhere to be seen.  
  
He felt Leon come forward and hug him, and the eyes of the whole world were the only things that kept him from shattering into a million, billion little pieces, like the brittle, rusted, chipped little thing he truly was.

* * *

  
The ensuing days seemed to pass by in a blur. A deafening, nauseating, maddening blur. It was like getting everything he’d ever wanted, but painfully shoved down his throat without a single moment of rest. It wasn’t unlike the time he was six years old and ate way too much cake and ice cream on his birthday… besides the fact that it was so, so much worse. He wasn’t just nauseous, he felt like he’d _explode_ , felt like he’d been packed full of napalm and nitroglycerin, arsenic and cyanide, all stewing in a pit of unplaceable guilt and inexplicable confusion.  
  
Hop felt like the world was looming over him with wide grins and eyes wide with wonder, all the flamethrowers and matches they could muster at the ready. Everyone chomping at the bit to see fireworks so big and so bright you’d hear them all the way from Kanto, just as soon as they lit the fuse.  
  
But all they’d get would be a fucking disaster.  
  
Hop barely ever even saw his friend. Just a constant deluge of interviews, questions, meetings, appointments, barely any time for his team that wasn’t just showing off for a camera.  
  
He’d become so sharp, and yet now it felt like he was something purely ceremonial. Something that would never again go endlessly, desperately rending through every obstacle in its way. Like it'd been tamed, somehow.  
  
Perhaps that should’ve brought Hop some comfort. He realized that he didn’t _want_ to shred everything to ribbons. He didn’t _want_ to be blind to everything but the next obstacle or opponent in his way. But nor did he simply want to be hung up on a fancy stand, gawked at by the masses until he was summoned for poses and parlor tricks.  
  
Lee was different. He managed to spin the duty into something of honor, substance, even past all the bullshit and glitz and glamour. He really cared about the region's safety, about the fans, about inspiring everyone, about the future.  
  
But...  
  
For a sword, for someone like Hop, there was nothing more.  
  
And from there, the lesson he’d finally learned...  
  
It was becoming so obvious, and yet, he couldn’t say it. Could hardly even bear to think it.  
  
But it was so simple.  
  
He was not a sword.   
  
He was not some _thing_ that existed solely for battle and glory, or to be admired by others.  
  
He was a human being.  
  
It was all he ever was, all he ever would be.  
  
And yet, he’d never thought that was enough. He’d become more, and yet so much _less,_ just some scared, hollow, knock-kneed little boy once you stripped away all the fantastic monsters and the stone made of god’s angry, still-pulsing flesh.  
  
What a fool he’d been.

* * *

  
Hop's resignation as Champion was equal parts swift and controversial. He’d considered the possibility of just waiting for a good match to throw, making everything look like he didn’t mean to… but a straight-up resignation was both faster and much more honest.  
  
Even if it did have the whole region abuzz as Leon confusedly stepped back into the role. Hop considered the consequences of leaving Lee to all of those reporters and questions, but Lee had told him he’d be able to manage… and they both figured things had gotten to a point where the alternatives would’ve just been worse.  
  
One day, just to get away from it all, Hop dove into the depths of the Slumbering Weald. For once, feeling apologetic, he took Merino with him. It felt as if something was almost… calling him.  
  
His friend was there.  
  
Huddled in front of the ruins where they’d found the sword and shield, weeping so quietly that Hop could only tell by the shudder of their shoulders.  
  
Hop sprinted towards them, at their side within moments. Once again, they recoiled, shied away, but they did not leave.  
  
Hop forced himself to speak. To dredge up what meager words from the depths of his heart, before his mind pushed them all aside to spew trivial niceties.  
  
“Hey…” he started. “I know it’s been hard. You don’t have to hide it from me. I’ve been through the same,”  
  
Their friend’s tears slowed to a stop, if only because of shame rather than true relief.   
  
Hop spoke to them for a while longer, letting them pet Merino since he didn’t want to try touching them again and end up overwhelming them like last time.  
  
It was nice.  
  
At least until two guys with the stupidest fucking names and hair that Hop had ever seen showed up, wanting to steal the old sword and shield and claiming to be royalty.  
  
Hop was back in some bullshit as usual, it seemed.  
  
Luckily, even though the two were pretty strong, they weren’t strong enough. Hop and his friend took them down quite handily, even if Hop had given up a slot for Merino. It helped that they only had four Pokemon each, because apparently the basic concept of having a full team with you when you challenge someone else to a battle was just too much for them to comprehend.  
  
It was in the midst of the fight that Zacian and Zamazenta abruptly arrived, doing nothing more than watching intently, all the way until the battle was won and the sword and shield were retrieved.  
  
“Hmph. It doesn’t matter that we lost,” Sordward said smugly. “Those two Pokemon are still fake heroes. In fact, they’re nothing but living tools, really. It’s said that for years now, they’ve merely been slumbering statues, stuck in suspended animation. Why do you think that is?”  
  
“...What are you getting at?” Hop asked warily.  
  
“Are you daft, boy?” Shielbert asked. “We’re saying that these Pokemon can’t possibly have a higher claim to heroism than the kings because they were nothing but tools for the kings! They’re just sword and shield personified, and that’s all they’ll ever be. No agency beyond whatever latest crisis there is. No purpose beyond the next big conflict. Any other time, they’re just statues. Waiting for someone to come and wield them. What a ridiculous existence.”  
  
Hop winced at that, and his friend stiffened. Not only out of pity for the two Pokemon, if the accusations were even true, but because it sounded disturbingly similar to himself. He’d worked out that he didn’t want to be Champion, but what did he even want to do _besides_ that? Besides just constantly throwing himself at the next obstacle, the next thing to cut down, the next big conflict?  
  
“...Even if that’s true, does it have to stay that way?” Hop asked.  
  
“What are you on about? That’s their nature. You can’t just snap your fingers and say it’s not.” Shielbert said, scowling.  
  
“First off, you’re just two dudes with shitty haircuts, so I have no idea why I should immediately trust anything you say. Second, if we have the sword and shield, and the Legends really do just let us ‘wield’ them like you say… What happens if we just tell them they’re free? That they don’t have to become statues anymore?”  
  
“Y-you can’t just do that!” Sordward said, but both legends had their eyes suddenly dead-set on Hop.  
  
“If we can’t, wouldn’t that also prove that they can choose to disobey even if we have the sword and shield?”  
  
“T-that would only prove that you must not be the real heroes! There’s clearly no chance that some beat up, bony, exhausted looking teenagers could be the real heroes! Therefore, we are!”  
  
“Riiight,” Hop said dryly. “Anyway…” Hop started, as he looked Zacian directly in the eyes.  
  
“Zacian… you don’t need to just turn back into a statue and wait for the next bad thing to happen. You’re not just a weapon, or a tool for people to use when they need you. This sword will not have power over you any longer. No one who wields it will. Do you understand?” Hop asked.  
  
Zacian nodded.  
  
There was an odd sense of gratitude radiating off of it, an emotion Hop could somehow feel for himself.  
  
He vaguely wondered if it was really supposed to become a statue at all, or if that had actually just been a selfish order placed on it.  
  
Hop turned and looked at his friend, who simply nodded in agreement, then nodded to Zamazenta.  
  
Both Zacian and Zamazenta simply watched as the two young Trainers placed the sword and shield back in their rightful place.  
  
“I-it can’t be that simple! It can’t be!” Shielbert cried, as Sordward ran towards the sword and shield yet again, brandishing the sword as if expecting a miracle.  
  
Zacian stared impassively.  
  
Sordward awkwardly waved it about a bit, scowling.  
  
“Well?! Don’t you care at all that I have this, you brute?!” Sordward asked.  
  
In the blink of an eye, Zacian’s jaws effortlessly wrenched the sword from his grasp, shifting into its Crowned Sword form in a burst of light. The legend regarded Sordward almost boredly, as if he were an absolute fool. Sordward merely looked back with wide, terrified eyes.  
  
The great wolf then merely gave a nod and a short growl to their companion, who also took the shield and shifted into their more powerful form…  
  
All was still for a moment, before the two then promptly vanished, joyously dashing off through the Slumbering Weald faster than the eye could follow.  
  
“Brother… now what do we do?!” Shielbert cried. “The rest of our plan is pointless if we can’t lure either of the legends in!”  
  
Hop blinked in surprise as his friend silently answered that question for them, sending out Inteleon with a look of pure menace on their face.   
  
The sentiment was obvious. Even moreso when an orb of high-pressure water began to swirl vigorously upon one of the reptile’s fingertips.  
  
Sordward and Shielbert ran off shrieking, as Inteleon was merely returned to their ball without a word.

* * *

  
For a moment, Hop and his friend merely stood in silence.  
  
Then, Hop spoke.  
  
“Wow… guess they were really just kind of cowards in the end, huh?” Hop asked. “Good work scaring them off!”  
  
His friend gave just the tiniest smile.  
  
“And… I’m sorry. I know how badly you wanted to be Champion, and I know it might feel like a slap in the face, me giving up on it so soon when you would’ve killed for it, but-”  
  
His friend vigorously shook their head, seeming almost offended at the mere insinuation.  
  
“Wait… you’re not mad about that? Then how come you were here crying just a bit ago?”  
  
Hop’s friend explained the truth well enough.  
  
They realized they didn’t really want to be Champion either… and yet, they’d nearly destroyed themself in their monomaniacal pursuit of it. Treating beloved team members like means to an end, only caring about battle performance, all to end up realizing that all they’d done was just make a massive series of mistakes.  
  
“I mean… it’s not all bad, right? We were strong enough to stop those two, even if they were mostly talk. And it’s not too late, right? We can make things better. We can help each other. We both know what it’s like, don’t we?”  
  
Hop’s friend paused for a moment, smiled something pure and genuine, and then did something Hop hadn’t expected at all.  
  
They motioned for Hop to stand back, before readying a ball containing a creature that hadn’t been necessary in their latest battle. A truly, truly gigantic creature.  
  
Eternatus took to the sky with a bone-rattling shriek, glaring down at the tiny human before them, wondering what they could’ve been roused from the ball for.  
  
And then that Trainer oh-so casually released Eternatus… and crushed the ball underfoot.  
  
Eternatus stared for a moment, hardly comprehending, before the child before them pointed up at the sky with a look of sheer conviction on their face.  
  
Eternatus understood. They didn’t need to be told twice.  
  
But the low, rumbling croon they produced in that moment… Hop could swear it sounded relieved, somehow.  
  
In seconds, that creature had gone away as well, streaking so high up into the atmosphere that even their massive body managed to completely disappear.  
  
Hop had heard that Eternatus apparently descended from space, long, long ago, within a meteor.  
  
Perhaps they were finally going home.  
  
After that, Hop’s friend did something else that was rather shocking.  
  
They turned to him and outstretched their arms.  
  
In that moment, Hop knew he still had a lot of things to address and unpack, and plenty of mistakes to set right… A lot to think about, a lot of growing up to do. But for the time being, he gladly accepted the invitation, tenderly embracing his dear friend.  
  
Metal crumbled away. Edges softened, hard exteriors disappearing.  
  
Though battered and bruised, two hearts enjoyed the simple pleasures of that small, vulnerable moment where they were able to beat in time.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that’s that on that. Hopefully, you enjoyed it… I was gonna get more in depth on certain things, and have more conversations and more about what Leon thinks and all that… but it was already getting a lot longer than I planned.
> 
> So instead, I often just hinted at certain things, and made little jabs here and there at stuff that made me eyeroll in the actual game... like that dumb thing with the Macro Cosmos key, for instance. Anyone with decent Pokemon and half a brain cell would have that key in two minutes. Don’t pretend like he miraculously gets to run away when I have supernatural monsters to send after him. God.
> 
> Also, while I actually like Bede as a character, and Hop is just being kinda mean about it here, I think there were better ways to redeem him than him suddenly being rushed into being Gym Leader. I think it cheapens his punishment earlier on, along with cheapening the seriousness of being a Gym Leader. Really does feel kinda unfair that you can basically luck into what should be a very competitive position without even asking...
> 
> Dynamax is kinda interesting gameplay-wise, but in-universe wise, and regarding the culture around it, pretty much everyone remains way too trusting and uncritical about it. Plus, unlike Necrozma, Eternatus never seems to have willingly shared its energy in the past, and from its backstory I’m not even 100% sure it actually wants to live in the Pokemon world... so it all comes off as pretty exploitative towards it. Releasing it just seemed fitting for the theme of this story. That’s why we stan Piers in this house.
> 
> Also, Sordward and Shielbert just plain suck. The concept of the postgame is fun, but not when they’re the delivery method. They’re also another dumb case of “somehow getting to just repeatedly heckle you and run away, even though you should still able to retaliate but just don’t because Plot FORCES you to chase them down again”, and I didn’t feel like making Protag into a scrub who has to lose to them in Hop’s place Because Plot, so yeah. Fuck all that. Have my slapdash solution that just renders them completely ineffectual morons.
> 
> I didn’t mention Hop becoming a professor here, because I don’t think it truly suits him. I saw the point, but I wasn’t really feeling it. Besides that, this is meant to be a hopeful ending, but not an ‘everything is fixed now’ ending.
> 
> However, you can imagine he still does if you want.
> 
> If I had to pick something, I would’ve used rangers, in the sense of the mainstream games’ Trainer class, not the stylus ones. But really, Hop has his whole life ahead of him and a lot of other things to sort through as well, which is why I decided not to explicitly go with this either.
> 
> Maybe if I do a sequel, but idk.
> 
> After all, this is a region where they let rookie Trainers just waltz on in to places where Pokemon are like level 50 and shit. Rangers would have to be pretty damn important. Speaking of that, I actually did notice a fic that does Ranger Hop, titled “What I really want to do” by VioletteWhest. I got the idea before I saw it, but it was really interesting to see someone have such a similar thought, and I enjoyed it.
> 
> The protagonist is very vaguely described on purpose, so you can imagine them however you want. I was personally imagining that they are nb masc, but it’s up to you. Also, if the end feels a bit romantic to you… That’s totally on purpose, although it can also be purely platonic. I’m a sucker for Victor/Hop.
> 
> Also, I realize you can't get Hidden Abilities from Brilliant Aura Pokemon, but tbh I'm just gonna keep it in because it feels like you definitely Should be able to. (being forced to rely only on the dens is annoying as hell tbh)


End file.
